


Time After Time

by justsomebucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mentions of Sexytimes, No Smut, Underage Drinking, Wakes & Funerals, artist!Bucky, brief tony stark x reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomebucky/pseuds/justsomebucky
Summary: AU. When the reader’s parents divorce, her mother moves her to a new town, right next door to Bucky Barnes. This is their love story.





	1. Age 7

When you were seven years old, your parents got a divorce. This event would have a ripple effect on the rest of your life, but you didn’t know it at the time. All you knew is that you had to leave your father except every other weekend, and you had to leave your school and your friends.

You and your mom packed up and moved to a new house three towns over. The house was small, only two bedrooms, but you thought it was cute. It had a nice yard to play in, and a couple trees to climb. Your room was much smaller than your old one, though, and your cat wouldn’t come out of hiding for the first few weeks. She didn’t like the new house, you decided.

The worst part of all was you lived next door to a crummy _boy_.

His house was bigger, and he had a lot more toys than you. He even had a cool bike; your mom said you couldn’t get a bike until she ‘figured some stuff out,’ whatever that meant.

When you went to school you had to get on the same school bus as him. That first day, your mom watched from the doorway as you trudged down the driveway, your book bag slung over your shoulder and your Disney lunch box held tightly in your hand.

You felt really scared. You’d cried and cried the night before because you missed your old school and your old friends.

So your mom had called the crummy boy’s mom on the phone and asked her to talk to him, to see if he would make sure you got to your class okay.

Now that you were here on the sidewalk with him, you didn’t want his help.

“What’s your name?” he asked. His eyes were really blue, like the sky. 

“Y/N.” You blinked at him. “What’s your name?”

“James. But my friends call me Bucky.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. “What grade are you in?”

“Third,” he said proudly, puffing his chest out. You didn’t know why he got weird about it.

“I’m in second,” you informed him. “I’m scared.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t be,” Bucky said with a nod. “I’m a big kid. I’ll look out for you.”

“You will?” Maybe he wasn’t as crummy as you thought. “Will you be my friend?”

“I can’t be friends with a baby.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your feet silently until the bus came.

The driver opened the door and Bucky moved quickly up the stairs, obviously forgetting that he said he’d look out for you already. You climbed the stairs as quickly as you could and sat by yourself in the front as he made his way to the back.

No, he was definitely still crummy.

* * *

Bucky looked mad when you finally got off the bus and walked toward the doors of your school. “You’re slow,” he complained. “Come on.”

You clutched your lunchbox to your chest as you followed behind him. He was looking at a piece of paper that looked like it had your mom’s handwriting on it, but you couldn’t see that far to know for sure.

“Here,” he said as he stopped in front of a door. “This is your homeroom. Your teacher is in there, go find her, okay?” Bucky shoved you gently toward the door before turning and walking away.

Your tummy hurt, and you wanted your mom, but you didn’t want that stupid boy to make fun of you later, so you went into the classroom.

Bucky stopped waiting for you and walking with you after you knew where to go. In fact, he didn’t even look at you anymore, not really.

There was one day near the end of the school year that really changed things for you in your new town.

You’d been sitting in the cafeteria with the only two friends you’d made all year, a girl called Ari and another called Willa, when a fifth-grader came over to your table. You were pretty sure his name was Brock, but you’d definitely never talked to him.

He stomped over to you looking scary and mean as usual. “You little babies better hand over the rest of your lunch,” he snarled.  

You didn’t know what to say. “W-what?”

“Give it!” He reached over and stole the rest of your sandwich from your lunch box, and he took Ari’s apple slices and Willa’s milk. “This is mine,” he told you, and he turned to leave. You couldn’t believe it. Your tummy had growled all morning and you were really hungry.

Willa started to cry, not because of the milk but because she was scared of Brock.

“It’s okay,” you told her. You knew what you had to do, so you got up from the table and headed over to Brock.

A hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks and you whirled around to see who it was.

Bucky had grabbed you, eyes wide. “You don’t want to mess with Brock.”

“You saw what he did and you let him take our stuff,” you accused. “My mom said you were gonna look out for me.”

“I am,” he protested. Bucky frowned at you, then fished around in his pocket. He handed you some crumpled money. “Here. Go get some more milk and stuff to eat.”

Your eyes grew large and you stared at the money in shock. You were _never_ given your own money. “That’s not mine,” you told him. “My mom said I’m not-“

“Take it,” he mumbled, shoving the bill in your hand before walking away.

You stared after him for a beat before going back to the lunch line to buy more food.

After that day, Bucky walked with you to and from the school bus, and he even let you play with some of his toys.  

 


	2. Age 11

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that the sixth grade and everything about it was _crazy_.

First of all, you had to ride the high school kids’ bus now, and though you’d had your choice of seats in fifth grade, here you were stuck in the front again.

Second, you got separated from Willa and Ari. They were in a different homeroom than you because it went alphabetically now. They at least had each other but you were back to being totally alone.

Third, you had to reunite with Bucky on the school bus. You’d had an entire year away from him as he moved to the older kids’ bus last year, but now you had to see him every morning again.

You normally wouldn’t care, but the problem was you’d developed a little crush on Bucky over the summer. It was so _stupid_ , and you knew it was stupid, and you couldn’t help yourself.

Both of your friends had decided that he was cute, and you hadn’t seen it at first. You told yourself he was just Bucky, your neighbor who liked to come over to see the cat and eat your mom’s cooking because his parents were never home to make him anything.

But one summer day, right before school started, he knocked on the door.

_“I got you something with my allowance.” He held out his hands to show you._

_You stared at the gift before accepting it from him. “A notebook?” Your eyes drifted over the front cover before looking up at him again._

_Bucky smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, see? It’s got cats on it because I know you like them, and I know you like to write…” His hand rubbed the back of his neck like he was uncomfortable._

_No one in this town had ever bought you anything before._

_“Does this mean we’re…friends?” You questioned, staring back up at him in wonder._

_He rolled his eyes. “Duh, we’ve been friends. Anyway…I just saw it and thought of you, so…”_

_Without a second thought you launched yourself at him and hugged him tightly. He froze at first, then lightly returned the hug, patting your back gently._

_“No one’s ever bought me anything besides my parents,” you told him softly, pulling back with a big smile. “Thank you.”_

You’d thought that was a turning point in your friendship with Bucky, but nothing really changed except your stupid crush over a gift that didn’t really mean anything to him.

That, and the fact that Bucky had his first girlfriend now.

Her name was Maria, and she was perfect. She had big brown eyes and dark hair, tanned skin and she smiled all the time. She even wore makeup; she might be the coolest girl in middle school. Of course every guy wanted her. And of course, Bucky was the one to get her attention.

You’d see them at her locker, flirting and smiling. You’d pass them in the halls on your way to class and they’d be holding hands. It got to the point where your heart was so sick, you averted your eyes when you saw Bucky approaching with her.

If he’d noticed the change he didn’t mention anything to you. Maybe he didn’t even realize what you were doing. Maybe he didn’t care.

It wasn’t until you came down for dinner and noticed him sitting at the table with _her_.

Your mom gave you sympathetic eyes. You’d told her about your stupid crush on Bucky because she’d picked up on how surly you’d become. “Y/N, Bucky’s parents are out-of-town on business, so I thought it would be nice to have him over for dinner.”

Your hair was messy and after school you’d changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt with your school’s mascot on it. You were totally humiliated now because Maria was still dressed up from school. She always dressed up.

She always looked pretty.

Of course Bucky wouldn’t ever want you when he could have _her._

You sat down at the table without replying to your mother and stared at the place setting in front of you until she set the bowl of pasta on the table. Your eyes lifted, expecting Bucky to make the first move toward the food. It was customary in your household to let guests go first.

He did, making a bowl of pasta with red sauce for Maria first, then helping himself. Who the heck does that? You were all in _middle school_ , and no one acts like that.

Your jealousy flared and you locked eyes with your mother. She shook her head at you and mouthed _be nice_.

When he was finally done, he lifted the bowl in your direction. You let out a huff of air as you took the scoop from Bucky, careful not to accidentally graze fingers.

“So Bucky, where are your parents off to this time?” your mother asked politely, pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “They just shoved some money at me and told me not to burn the house down.”

Your mother frowned deeply. “No one’s staying with you?”

He shook his head, meeting Maria’s eyes.

That must have been a selling point for him to get her to come over.

“And Maria, your parents are okay with you being alone with Bucky?”

“They don’t know his parents aren’t home,” she shrugged, taking another bite of the pasta.

“Well I’m sorry, Bucky, but I can’t leave you alone over there like that, and after dinner I’m going to drive you home, Maria.”

You saw her roll her eyes at your mother. Now you were mad. “You aren’t cool, staying by yourselves,” you said angrily, meeting Bucky’s eyes for the first time all night. “Something bad could happen and you’d be alone. It’s _not_ cool.”

His brow furrowed at you. “My parents are gone all the time, it’s nothing new. Are you just je-“

“May I be excused?” you interrupted, turning back to your mother. “I have homework.”

“Well, I was going to drive Maria home, but I suppose I can just call her parents and have them come get her so that I can talk to them,” your mother mused. “Go ahead, Y/N.”

With one last glare at Bucky, you tore up the stairs and into your room, shutting and locking the door behind you.

* * *

 

It was maybe ten minutes later when you heard a knock on your door.

“I’m fine, Mom! Just doing homework,” you called out. 

In reality, you were laying on your bed, tears in your eyes, trying to convince yourself that Bucky was just as crummy as you remembered from elementary school.

“It’s me.”

You sat straight up, wiping your face frantically. “Go away.”

“Let me in.”

“Where’s your _girlfriend_?” You made a face as you realized how stupid you sounded.

“Come on, Y/N.”

With a dramatic and totally necessary sigh you moved to open your door.

Bucky’s face fell when he saw that you’d been crying. “Are you really that mad about Maria?”

“No,” you lied. “You can’t stay home alone, Bucky. You’re just a kid. What if something bad happens?”

He blinked. “Your mom put blankets down on the couch. I just thought you should know she isn’t letting me go back home to sleep.”

Your mom was trying to ruin your life, wasn’t she? “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, shuffling on his feet a little. “Did you ever finish your story?”

“How did you know about my story?” You looked at him in confusion. He’d not been around lately, how did he know you were writing? It was for a school competition, so maybe he’d heard about it from someone else.

“Your mom told me,” Bucky said, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Can I read it?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, moving aside to let him in your room and leaving the door open. Those were the rules when Bucky was over and in your room, not that it happened often.

You opened up the cat notebook he’d given you last summer and flipped to the right page, holding it out for him. “Here.”

He took it and moved to sit in the chair by your window to read, and you sat on your bed and tried to do anything but stare at him.

That stupid crush flared up again.


	3. Age 16

Learning to drive was turning out to be a hilarious nightmare. Since your mom worked all the time now, and your dad was off doing whatever with whichever person he decided was more important than you now, you relied on Bucky to teach you how to drive.

There were rules he set first, too.

Rule #1: No driving in public places where you could be seen with him. You took immediate offense to that, but he tried to play it off by claiming he didn’t want to seem like a bad teacher in front of people and he didn’t want you to get nervous. You were in no place to argue, so back roads and parking lots it was.

Rule #2: When he says brake, you brake. This took a little getting used to, because at first you hit the gas and brake at the same time and almost hit a stop sign. Bucky had made you pull over until your hands stopped shaking, but then you were right back driving again minutes later.

Rule #3: No driving with anyone but him and your mom until you got your license. He claimed he didn’t want you to “undo” all the work he’d put into your driving.

You really had no choice but to agree; who else would teach you? You were the oldest of your friends at 16 (nearly 17, because you’d delayed getting your permit).

Today’s driving lesson was going pretty well. You’d become really good at keeping a distance between cars and defensive driving. Bucky had let you go onto the main roads, where – gasp! – other cars were.

He was fiddling with the radio stations in his car (as if you or your mom could afford one for you) while you kept your eyes on the road.

“Can you stop?” you huffed. “It’s distracting me.” You saw him turn to you in the corner of your eye.  

“My car, my rules,” he stated matter-of-factly, though he did settle on one station.

“Thank you.” You knew he’d stopped for you. No need to rub it in.

Bucky cleared his throat. “So, I can’t take you driving tomorrow.”

“Why not?” you demanded. Saturday’s were the easiest days for you to go driving. “That really sucks, Bucky.”

“I have a date.”

You whipped your head around to him, forgetting that a stop sign was approaching.

“STOP!” he yelled.

You turned back just in time to slam on your brakes and barely miss a car going through the intersection. You panicked; your breath came in short gasps and your eyes were wide, hands gripping the wheel so hard your knuckles turned white.

You didn’t even notice that Bucky had put his arm out in front of you to protect you in case of impact until he was pulling it away.

“I think it’s time for me to drive,” he said quietly, unbuckling his seat belt.

Humiliated, you didn’t say a word, just switched seats with him.

When he finally pulled into his driveway, you got out, shut the door, and gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I – I should have been paying attention. It won’t happen again.”

Bucky frowned at you. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said softly, shutting his car door. He came around to your side of the car. “It’s important that you pay attention, okay?”

You stared at him, chewing your lip. “Thanks for teaching me to drive Buck. Maybe we should just call it off and I’ll get my mom to take me from now on.” Him as a distraction was probably the only one you’d have while driving, anyways.

“No way,” he grinned, ruffling your hair affectionately. “No going back now, Y/N. You’re getting your license and you’re gonna be the second best driver on the road, thanks to me.”

You returned his smile, momentarily forgetting why he distracted you in the first place.

* * *

The day you took your road test, your mom was the one who drove you to the DMV. Bucky had his license and he’d just turned 18, but your mom insisted that she take you.

It was a momentous occasion, she had said, and she didn’t want to lose out on another one of those to Bucky.

Your face had heated up so much you couldn’t even look at her as you got ready to go.

When you passed, had your license picture taken, and drove your mother home (“I can’t believe how good you are! I’m so proud of you!” she had cooed), the next person you wanted to tell was Bucky.

But when you parked the car, you saw him standing on his front porch with Wanda, a girl from his grade. Wanda had her arms snaked around his neck, standing one step above him so that she was eye-to-eye with him.

Or, really, mouth-to-mouth.

Your heart sank and you turned away quickly, no longer caring about telling Bucky your news.

Your mom had seen Bucky, and the disappointment you’d been unable to hide on your face, so she wrapped her arm around you as you made your way into the house. “Do you want to have the girls over for a movie night?” she asked gently.

“Yeah, Mom, thanks. I’d like that.” You gave her a grateful smile.

It didn’t take long for Ari, Willa, and a giant box of pizza to arrive at your house. You sat around watching Harry Potter and talking about which house you’d be in and which class was your favorite.

“I’m a Hufflepuff,” Ari declared firmly.

“Well, I’d be a Ravenclaw,” you countered. “What would you be, Willa?”

“Slytherin!” She gave you both a toothy grin. Everyone knew she only wanted to be in Slytherin for Draco.

The three of you were laughing hysterically when the doorbell rang. “Keep going, I’ll be right back,” you said as you made your way to the front door, throwing it open.

Bucky stood on the porch. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “How’d it go?”

“Oh.” There you go again, a loss for words around him. “I got my license!”

His smile turned into a grin. “Congrats! I knew you had it in you.”

“Thanks to you,” you added, the corner of your mouth quirking up a little.

“I guess you’re busy right now,” he mused, looking over your head. You turned and saw Ari and Willa staring at you. They quickly looked away when they realized they’d been caught.

You turned back to Bucky. “Yeah. Movie night.”

“Ah.” He gave you a nod, his eyes locked on yours.

“How’d your date go?” Darn it. Why’d you have to bring that up? You shifted uncomfortably on your feet.

“Fine.” He glanced behind you again, something unreadable about his expression. “I better get home. My mom’s actually home today.”

“You can join us if you want, instead of spending time with her?” you offered, half of you hoping he accepted your offer, and the other half hoping you could get far away from him tonight.

“Nah, that’s okay. Thanks though.” Bucky gave you a lopsided smile. “I’m proud of you for today. Have a good night.”

“Night, Bucky,” you said softly. You watched him walk down the stairs and across the yard to his own house before shutting the door.

As soon as you went back in the living room, Ari and Willa were staring at you in disbelief.

“Nice,” Ari commented, her eyebrows arched at you. Willa dissolved into giggles.

“Shut up,” you muttered, flopping back down on the couch, determined to think about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and not the stupid boy next door.


	4. Age 17

Junior year of high school was mostly filled with sadness and anxiety about the future.

It’s not like you meant to be that way, but so many things were about to change, and everyone was telling you if you didn’t start now you’d regret it. On top of everything else, you were painfully aware that your time in high school would be ending next year.

You were a bit overwhelmed, and instead of doing something productive like university applications, or outlining writing samples, or even stupid homework, you sat at your desk in your bedroom worrying.

That wasn’t even the worst part of it, although those things were all pretty crappy. The worst part of it was that a decade after you first met him, you were still crazy for one James Buchanan Barnes.

Why was that the worst part? There were two simple reasons. The first was that he was graduating tomorrow and leaving the day after to attend an Ivy League school that his dad, a legacy, had managed to get him into. It was far enough away that he couldn’t possibly come home more often than holidays. The second reason was that after a decade, he still saw you as the annoying little neighbor girl from next door who needed someone to look after her at school.

He’d always had a girlfriend who was attractive and popular since he was attractive and popular. You _never_ stood a chance.

Not to say you hadn’t dated; you’d had your fair share of bad first dates, group dates, friendly set-ups, and even dates to homecoming and prom, but you always caught yourself wishing that the boy you were with was Bucky.

You spent a lot of time thinking things like _this could be the last time_ for whatever was happening with him. It was kind of like you were mourning your friendship with him before it even actually ended.

In order to get your brain going on something other than your anxiety, you’d started a project for Bucky around mid-year. You remembered how he bought you a notebook when you were younger because you liked to write; you still had the thing even though it was used, beat up, and had no free pages left.

Well, Bucky loved to draw, paint, doodle, sketch, whatever you wanted to call it. Bucky had an artistic mind that was going to go to waste on a business degree from an Ivy League school when his heart and soul longed to create.

You’d had the idea one day in study hall and you thought it was brilliant, something to remember you by when he left you, probably for good.

A story had been brewing in your mind for a while, and you knew it was cute enough to be a children’s book. And what better person to fill your story with beautiful art then the talented boy you’d loved most of your life? You were keeping it a secret from him so that you could present it to him the day he left for university.

Now, as you sat in your bedroom staring at the leather-bound book that you’d painstakingly hand-written your story in (as neatly as possible), you wondered if he’d even open it, let alone illustrate its pages.

With a big sigh, you reached for your phone. Bucky was leaving for university in two days and you needed to make sure you had some alone time to say goodbye to him.

Your thumbs moved over the screen quickly before you lost your nerve. _Hey, before you leave, I need a few minutes to give you a graduation gift._

You stared at the screen for a minute or two before he finally texted you back.

_Okay._

If you had rolled your eyes any harder you’d have hurt yourself. Why was he like this? You locked your phone, set it on your nightstand, and turned off the light.

You’d be damned if you spend any more time worrying about your future or Bucky Barnes that night.

* * *

Graduation came and went pretty quickly. You had to help as an usher and lead the graduating class to their seats on stage since you were in the National Honor Society, so you ended up staying backstage for the whole thing.

Bucky was in the front row, smart enough to be in the top ten of his class, so you made sure you were standing on his side of the stage.

When he saw you, he gave you a smile and a wink, and you’re pretty sure you grinned like an idiot back at him. You were so proud of him; even if he was doing what his parents wanted him to do, he was doing it well and with a positive attitude.

His graduation party was to be held that night, and he’d promised you at least ten minutes around 7:30, before the party started, so that you could give him his present.

You had carefully wrapped the gift before getting ready for his party. The paper was actually just from your own printer, and on it were prints of pictures of the two of you over the years in a collage format. On the inside cover you’d tucked a note for his eyes only, and you’d sealed it up in the special paper before you lost your nerve to hand it to him.

Wearing your favorite pair of jeans (the ones that made your ass look pretty good in your opinion), a nice black top, and some light makeup, you checked the time and decided to head on over. It was like you were seven all over again, except instead of timidly clutching a lunchbox, you were clutching the gift tightly in your arms as you made your way down the driveway and into Bucky’s yard.

It didn’t actually look like anyone was downstairs prepping for the party yet, which was really weird considering that Bucky had told you his parents had hired caterers. Maybe it was too early. You reached up and knocked a couple times.

No one came to the door, so you rang the doorbell and waited, tapping your foot impatiently. Your anxiety was starting to rear its ugly head again, and you wanted to get this over with. It could be such a good, life-changing moment for you and you desperately wanted a positive outcome.

Still no one answered, so you pulled out your phone to text Bucky. _Hey, I’m here, let me in! 7:30 like you promised! If you don’t I’m going to come in anyways :/_

After another minute you huffed and reached for the door handle, pushing your way in. It was never locked when Bucky was the only one home; he said he couldn’t care less about his parents’ material things even though you’d chastised him about it regularly for the last decade or so.

You wandered up the familiar carpeted staircase to his bedroom, noticing his door was mostly shut. The book shifted in your arms as you pushed the door open.

The sight before you broke your heart all over again.

Instead of spending the mere _ten minutes_ you’d asked of him with _you_ , Bucky was on his bed, Wanda writhing beneath him as he shoved his hand up her shirt. They were making out pretty heavily. Apparently they were on-again?

You couldn’t stop the gasp that left your mouth, your chest tightening painfully.

Bucky broke away from Wanda then, scrambling to stand up. “Y/N,” he said breathlessly, his face panicked. “Is it 7:30 already?”

“Forget it,” you choked out, turning to leave with fresh tears burning in your eyes.

You’d stumbled a couple of steps into the hallway when he grabbed at your arm and turned you back around to look at him.

His face fell when he saw your tears, like it always did when you cried in front of him. “Doll…”

“Don’t!” Something inside you snapped, and you shoved the book against his chest roughly. “Good luck in life, Bucky.” 

With a strength and will you didn’t know you had, you turned around and walked away from the one boy you’d loved over half of your life.

He called after you repeatedly, but you kept marching back out the door, to your room, where you ignored all the calls and texts and emails and snap chats from him, eventually blocking him on everything. You definitely didn’t go to his party.

And the next day, you watched with tear-stained cheeks from behind your bedroom curtains as he packed his stuff into his car and took off, leaving you behind for good.


	5. Age 19

“Hey, ladies get in free tonight!”

You turned your head to raise an eyebrow at the drunk frat boy. Why he was standing outside when the party was in full swing inside the house, you had no idea. “Don’t we get in free every night?”

“Well, yeah, but…” He grinned and shrugged, spilling some beer on his own shirt before chugging the rest of the red solo cup’s contents.

Your roommate Riko nudged your arm. “Come on,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get to the drinks before they start pulling this house cup crap again.”

“Where’d Melissa go?” You scanned the living room and hall as you entered the building. She had a habit of going off on her own with whatever boy she thought was the cutest for the moment.

“Guess.” Riko nodded up the staircase.

“Damn, already?” you muttered under your breath, stepping over to the table where the drinks were.

Finals were over, and they didn’t call it hell week for nothing. So as a reward to yourselves for successfully finishing freshman year at your university _relatively_ unscathed, you and your two roommates were crashing a frat party. You were underage, but it’s not like they carded here.

You handed a beer can to Riko as you both made your way into the main room where beer pong was happening.

“I’m going to play,” she announced with a grin. “Partner?”

“I -” You were about to agree, because you were somehow _really_ good at beer pong, when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. “Hang on, it’s my mom,” you told her, checking the caller ID. “I’m going to take this outside.”

Squeezing past all the frat boys and sorority girls that you definitely didn’t fit in with, you made your way back outside and down the walk away from prying ears. “Mom?”

“Hey sweetie.” Her voice sounded weird. “How were finals?”

“Fine, Mom. How are you? Everything okay?”

She sighed audibly on the other end. “Y/N, I think you might want to come home tonight.”

“I’m at a party, we literally just all finished finals, and-“

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were in a bad car accident today, sweetie,” she interrupted. “They passed away.”

You felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs. She must have heard you gasping for a breath on the other end of the line because her own voice raised in a panic.

“Y/N, you have to breathe, okay? Listen to me. Just breathe.”

Her voice was your focus as everything else around you became fuzzy.

“Bucky,” you croaked in a strangled voice. Your hands started trembling as you struggled to hang on to your phone. _Oh god, Bucky…_

“Just come home, okay? Don’t speed. Be safe. I love you.”

* * *

You tried not to speed on your way home, you really did, but you knew a lot of back roads where there usually weren’t any cops, so you got home in decent time. When you pulled into your driveway you saw Bucky’s car in his driveway next door, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

Bucky Barnes was a name you’d tried not to think about since the day he drove off for his freshman year of university. You’d finished high school, moved to your own uni, and began studying for what you hoped to be a lucrative creative writing career.

The only times you ever let yourself think of him were when you were having trouble getting to sleep, when nostalgia struck, or when you were _drinking._

But somehow you’d been strong enough to not text him, or call him, or email him.

There was one time during Christmas break that you _almost_ gave in. You’d gotten a small box in the mail and there was no return address, but you could see from the postal service’s stamp that it had been mailed from a post office in the same town as Bucky’s university.

Your fingers had itched to open it, wondering what could possibly be inside. Was he sorry? Was he returning something you’d bought him? Maybe it wasn’t even from him, and the stamp was just a coincidence.

So you’d shoved it to the back of your closet and piled some old clothes on top of it so that you would forget about it, and you did.

It made you sick to think about the way you had acted. He’d been your friend, and your jealousy had ruined everything.

You took a deep breath, grabbed your overnight bag from the seat beside you, and got out of the car. Your mother must have heard the car door slam shut because she appeared in the doorway to the house, her face solemn.

“Hi, honey,” she said softly, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Mom,” you choked out, feeling a fresh set of tears threaten to fall.

“Shhh, sweetie…Bucky is here.” She pulled back to give you a sympathetic look. “Be strong for him, okay? Whatever happened between the two of you in high school, he needs you now.”

With a silent nod of understanding, you made your way to the half bath to wash your face off and try to collect yourself before seeing Bucky. Your mom was right, as usual.

When you felt satisfied that you looked at least normal, maybe a little more tired than usual, you made your way back out to the hall and peered into the living room.

Your mom was sitting on one end of the couch, with Bucky and a woman you’d never seen before sitting on the other side.

They were holding hands.

_Stop,_ you scolded yourself. _This is not the time!_

When his blue eyes met yours for the first time in two years, you froze in place.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice a little raspier than you remember. Had he been crying? _Well, probably, idiot,_ you chastised yourself again.

Your heart clenched at the thought. “Bucky, I’m so sorry.” You took a few timid steps forward, stopping when you remembered there was another woman in the room (probably his girlfriend).

Out of the corner of your eye you saw your mom excuse herself to the kitchen. _Traitor,_ you thought miserably, blinking at the coffee table.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes flickered back up to his, and he offered you a halfhearted smile before standing up and pulling the woman up with him. They made their way over to stand in front of you.

“Y/N, this is my girlfriend Sharon.” The pretty blonde woman, whose eyes were a striking brown this close up, reached out her hand and you took it gently. “Sharon, this is Y/N, my friend I was telling you about.”

She smiled brightly. “It’s so nice to meet you, James has told me so many great stories from when you were younger.”

“Has he?” You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. _James?_ “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Your eyes flitted to Bucky’s but he looked away towards the kitchen.

“I think I’ll go help your mom with the coffee,” he said as he made his way for the door, leaving you alone with Sharon.

“So, Sharon, how did you meet Bucky?”

“Oh, that’s a fun story!” Her face lit up; you could tell she was smitten with him. “James and I were in the same study group for our Intro to Ethics class. He kept flirting with me, and I finally just couldn’t resist him anymore!”

Your hands clenched into fists involuntarily, but you plastered a smile on your face. “That sounds amazing.”

For the sake of your mother, and more importantly Bucky, you listened to her drone on and on until she left to go next door and sleep after thanking your mother for her hospitality.

Your mother excused herself to go to sleep shortly after Sharon, leaving you alone with Bucky in the living room.

“You didn’t have to come home.”

You looked over at him, your gaze locking with his. “I wanted to, Bucky.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up for a second before he looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry for the way I left.”

“Me too.” You chewed your lip nervously. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” His voice was so soft, if there had been any other sound in the room you’d have missed it entirely.

Without another word, you scooted closer to him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you, and you sat together like that until the clock on the mantel chimed midnight, reminding you it was time to go to bed, too.

* * *

The funeral and wake back at Bucky’s house (so weird to think it was his house now) seemed to go by in a blur, with Bucky facing the brunt of the crowds on his own, Sharon silent at his side.

Why wasn’t she helping him? He had to be exhausted.

You and your mother stayed to help clean up afterwards. She and Sharon went to do dishes while you went around with a garbage bag picking up disposable plates and plastic ware. The last room left to clean was the living room, but you stopped cleaning when you saw Bucky sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

Without thinking twice, you moved to sit beside him silently, just to let him know you were there if he needed you.

After a few moments, he raised his head.

Yeah, he was exhausted.

“You can rest a while, Bucky,” you told him gently. “Things can wait until tomorrow.”

“They really shouldn’t.” He leaned back against the couch. “I have so much legal paperwork to do still, and I have to get the death certificates to the-”

“Tomorrow,” you interrupted, reaching your hand out to touch his arm gently. “You need to rest, okay? Take care of yourself.”

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to look out for you,” he joked, his smile not reaching his eyes.

“Not this time. Go upstairs and rest. We’ve got this, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, standing up. “When do you have to go back?”

“I start my internship on Monday.”

Bucky frowned slightly. “Will you unblock me from everything now so that I can text and call?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that left you, and your laughter grew as Bucky started chuckling too.

After a few minutes you were both laughing so hard your stomachs hurt. It was so good to see him smile and laugh even on a day like today.

“Thank you for being there for me,” he murmured, reaching for you. His arms wrapped tightly around you, and you returned his hug.

“Always, Bucky.”

Your voice was nothing more than a whisper in his ear as you tightened your hold on him.

“Always.”


	6. Age 20 (Pt1)

You were running late for class, as usual. It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t really like this class, but you _loved_ it, and the professor was a real piece of eye candy. Every Tuesday and Thursday you slept in an hour more than the rest of your weekdays because your schedule allowed it, but it also always threw off the rest of your day.

For instance, you always tried to eat breakfast first, but today you only had time to grab a granola bar to eat in class. You used to try to go for a jog, but that ended pretty quickly once it got cold. January was never kind to you, weather-wise.

What always made you late, however, was your caffeine addiction. You hated that you’d become another one of those ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ types, but you couldn’t really help it. University work was tiring, plus you were always going to writing workshops and to listen to authors speak.

That very morning, you’d basically given up on trying to look presentable for class. In a sweater, jeans, and those really cute grey boots you’ve been meaning to break in, you walked as quickly as possible to the coffee shop that was near the building your class was in.

While you were waiting in line, you checked your phone, a smile appearing on your face when you saw you had a couple texts from Bucky. You were so glad the two of you had patched things up, and you talked now nearly every day.

Bucky’s parents’ passing had left him in kind of a rough spot. Not emotionally, it seemed, at least not that he would admit to you. No, this was more of a personal level.

He’d decided to drop out of the fancy Ivy League school that he didn’t want to attend anymore. He broke it off with Sharon, and he was in the process of trying to figure out how to get a late transfer to a different school.

_Hey, doll. When do you think you’ll have time for me to come visit you? I have some big news for you that I want to say in person._

Oh geez.

_How about tomorrow?_ you texted back, biting your lip to stop from grinning.

_I was hoping more like today? I’m currently on your campus getting coffee with someone, but after?_

Your brows furrowed. _Who do you know on campus?_ _And so weird! I’m getting coffee too!_ You put your phone away as you got closer to the counter. One more person to go and you’d finally have your caffeine.

“Y/N?”

You whirled around at the sound of your name, eyes widening when you saw Bucky standing in that very coffee shop.

“Bucky!” you screeched, forgetting all about your coffee and leaving the line to launch yourself at him.

He laughed happily, giving you a proper squeeze. “Hey, doll, what are the odds of this happening?”

You pulled back, a huge smile on your face. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you!”

“So it turns out a friend of mine is in the art program here, and she suggested that I check it out. That’s the news I wanted to tell you in person, so, here we are! I’m going to be going to school here now.”

Bucky stumbled backwards a few more steps as you launched yourself at him again, arms encircling him tightly. “I’m so HAPPY! This is amazing!” Pulling back, you saw just how happy he was, too. “And art, finally? Buck, that’s just so great. I’m glad you’re pursuing what you really want to do.”

He nodded to a pretty red-head near the window who was smiling at them. “Thank Natasha. She’s the person who encouraged me.”

_Dammit_ , you cursed inwardly. _Why do they always have to be stunning?_

Natasha must have realized he was talking about her because she walked over, slinking up next to him as if she was sex in heels. She looped her arm through his, and you felt your excitement dissipate, only a little. 

Ah, _that_ kind of friend.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said brightly, refusing to be that jealous girl again. You held out your hand to her and she shook it briefly.

“Natasha. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too! So you go to school here too?” The three of you moved to sit down together at the closest table.

“I do,” Natasha confirmed. “Art history major. I specialize in Russian and Soviet art. I hope to be a curator someday. What about you?”

“Oh,” you cleared your throat anxiously. “Creative writing. Nothing as exciting as art.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N.” Bucky turned to Natasha. “She’s been writing great stories since we were kids.”

“So Bucky,” you said, trying to change the subject from yourself. “What are you going to specialize in?”

“I think just painting. I’m going to have to do shows here and there, but it should be fun. Nat will help me set them up.”

You tried to ignore the pang in your chest. “That’s amazing.”

“So Y/N,” Nat began, a small smirk on her face. Why was she smirking? “Maybe you and a date can come to one of Bucky’s shows when he gets his transfer finalized. He tells me he already has about 8 pieces done.”

Your eyes flickered to Bucky. He hadn’t told you he’d been painting already. “Maybe I will bring my boyfriend,” you said casually.

His eyes widened. “Little Y/N has a boyfriend? What?”

“I do,” you informed him, eyes rolling. “Is it that much of a shock to you?”

“What’s his name?” Nat asked. “Does he go here, too?”

“His name is Tony, and no he isn’t a student.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “He, uh…he invents things? He’s kind of a tech genius.”  

Bucky started coughing suddenly, so hard that Natasha got up to get him a cup of water.

“Are you okay?” you asked with wide eyes. His face was red and his eyes watering from coughing so hard.

“Fine,” he rasped out, clearing his throat. “You’re dating Tony Stark? _The_ Tony Stark?”

“Yes, I am dating Tony Stark.”

“Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“He’s not _that_ much older than me!”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t like it. He’s a rich playboy, Y/N, you’re only gonna get hurt.”

“I never knew you cared about who I was seeing,” you shot back, an eyebrow raised. “You’ve always been so busy moving onto the next girl to care about what I was doing.”

“Not true,” he protested, his face finally returning to a normal color, his blue eyes piercing yours. “I always cared. Y/N, I –”

“Here you go!” Natasha returned with a small plastic cup of water, which he took a sip from.

“Thank you,” he told her, his mouth quirking upward.

“Anything for my artist,” she cooed, leaning over to rest her chin on his shoulder.

Well, you’d had enough for one morning. You checked the time on your phone. “I’m officially late to class, so I think I’m going to just go back to my room and get some work done,” you said, standing up.

Bucky stood up automatically. “Why don’t you come have a late breakfast with Nat and I?”

“I already had breakfast, but thank you,” you lied smoothly. “Anyways, it was nice meeting you Natasha. And I’ll see you around, I guess, Bucky! Welcome to the university!”

“Thanks.” He was giving you a weird look, but you just smiled and waved one last time before moving to the door.

You didn’t need a lecture on your love life when his was _clearly_ all over the place.

* * *

True to his word, Bucky transferred into the university’s art school, and it didn’t take long for him to become the program’s favorite.

His first art show was happening tonight, and he’d personally invited you and a guest, so you and a very dapper looking Tony Stark were currently on your way – in a freaking _limousine_ – to the art gallery that was hosting him.

You had on a tea-length navy blue dress and some strappy silver heels, with a matching silver clutch. You looked pretty good if you did say so yourself.

The thought had crossed your mind that you’d wanted to look good for Bucky, but you quickly dismissed that thought, changing it to Tony, your handsome billionaire boyfriend who you never in a million years thought would have ever looked your way.

You’d met at a poetry reading given by a few of the seniors at your university, though you had gone specifically to hear Pietro Maximoff and Pepper Potts, two of your favorites.

He’d smiled at you as he sat down in the chair beside yours and the two of you talked so much they made you leave, so you’d gone for drinks. That was a month ago, and it had gone pretty well since then.

If you’d been honest to yourself, though, you’d have noticed what was missing from the relationship, but you had to move on. You’d promised yourself you were going to move on and find someone, so you did.

Tony reached for your hand as you stepped out of the limo, taking his arm. You heard some girls nearby start whispering, probably wondering what he was doing with _you_ , but you kept your eyes forward. He grabbed an informational pamphlet that described all the art you were about to see from the volunteer at the door and handed it to you.

The two of you followed the signs to Bucky’s exhibit and when you first laid eyes on some of his work, it honestly took your breath away.

He’d dabbled in a little bit of everything: still life, portraits, even your favorite, impressionism. You let go of Tony to follow the trail of people around the gallery, your heart soaring with pride and wonder. Bucky was so talented, how is it that you’d never seen his work before? Doodles on your notebook _so_ did not compare to this. 

He was gifted.

“These are pretty good,” Tony said lightly, looking around the room like he had a million better things to do.

“They’re amazing,” you said softly, staring at the one currently in front of you. It was a sea of stars over two houses side-by-side. They looked awfully familiar. “This is my house,” you realized, pointing for Tony. “That’s his house.”

“Yeah, you mentioned you were neighbors a couple times.”

At his tone, you turned to glare at him. “You can go wander around or get a drink, you don’t have to pretend to want to see the art.”

“Thank goodness,” he sighed out, leaning over to kiss your head. “Text me when you’re ready to leave.”

You wanted to be mad, but it was good press for Bucky that Tony had come tonight, so you didn’t say a word as he left you staring at this beautiful painting. You peered closer. There were so many details to the houses. He’d even gotten your curtains in your bedroom right.

The crowd grew and so you had to move on, more in awe with each painting.

“It’s her! Excuse me, miss?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder. “Yes?” you asked, confused. You had no clue who this girl was.

“This is you, right?”

“Wh-what?” Now you were even more confused.

The girl shoved the pamphlet in your face, and you saw a thumbnail print of yourself in it.

He’d painted you. He didn’t tell you.

_Oh god, he’d painted you._

“Where is it?” you asked hoarsely, stumbling in the direction that the girl pointed.

When you got to the painting, you gasped.

It was you, and it was black and white, and you were grinning, looking off to the side. He’d gotten your eyes and nose and mouth right, and your hair looked just like you wore it almost every day. The sign below stated that the portrait was called “Illumination.”

You were stunned. The tears welled up quickly, and you dabbed at your eyes carefully to not ruin your makeup.

“So I guess the secret’s out.”

You turned and met Bucky’s eyes, and he gave you that familiar lopsided smile.


	7. Age 20 (Pt2)

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to get any words out as he made his way closer to you.

Bucky gave a low chuckle and turned to your portrait, eyes twinkling. “They recommend that for a portfolio, you experiment with different themes. If you’ve seen any of the other pieces tonight, they all have one thing in common. Did you notice?”

“You know I’m not an artist, Buck…”

“Light,” he supplied. “It’s all play on light. The houses had stars above them, and light in the windows. Even the still life bowl of fruit cast a shadow on the table. And this-“ he paused for a moment, letting his eyes wander over the painting, “- is called Illumination for a reason.”

“Because there’s light on my face?” You were curious now, your eyes on him instead of the painting.

His smile widened almost affectionately. “You see how the shadows are falling that direction behind you?”

You glanced back at the portrait. “Yes?”

“You’re the light.” Bucky looked at you then, and you gazed back at him. “You’re the light here, Y/N. That is what I meant by illumination.”

Heat rose in your cheeks that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It seemed like Bucky was the only one to ever do that to you. “How can a person be light?”

“It doesn’t have to be scientific,” he grinned.

“I suppose not. But why me?” You bit your lower lip. “There’s plenty of better subjects.”

“I don’t know anyone on this planet who embodies light more than you,” Bucky said quietly as his smile faded. “Besides, I told you I had an idea for a painting of you. I was going to make it the centerpiece of my show, but I never heard back from you for permission.”

You blinked in confusion. “No, I don’t remember hearing anything about this? You said the secret was out, I assumed you meant this was your secret?”

“No,” he shook his head, looking confused as well. “I told you the secret was going to be how I painted you.”

“Bucky, I think you must have dreamt telling me this. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shifted on your feet uncomfortably. What the heck was going on?

He stared for a few minutes before a look of realization washed over his handsome face. “You never read the letter?”

“ _What_ letter?” Your impatience was starting to show in your tone.

“I sent a box to your house the Christmas after our…our misunderstanding. I take it you never opened it.” He shook his head and turned away from you, running a hand through his hair. He looked kind of frustrated.

It hit you then, and your eyes widened as he looked back at you for some answers. “Oh, shit,” you exclaimed. “I was mad, and I shoved it in the back of my closet. I meant to open it the last time I was home for a few days, but I completely forgot.”

Bucky nodded, his mouth in a straight line. “Maybe it’s better you didn’t read it, then,” he said softly.

“Why?” you asked. “What did it say?”

“First of all,” he sighed, meeting your eyes again. “If you had opened the box, you’d have seen the book I finished illustrating for you, the one you shoved at me the night of my graduation party.”

Your hand went to your mouth, covering it in shock.

“Second,” he continued, ignoring your current state. “In the letter I apologized for the way I acted. And-“

“And?” Your legs felt like jelly.

“Never mind,” he said roughly, looking to the side. “I have to go give my little ‘thank you for coming’ speech. You should probably go find Tony.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you told him sincerely. “I – I was so petty, and dumb, and I can get my mom to mail the box to me. I’m sorry. I’m a terrible friend.”

Bucky eyed you for a moment. “Go find Tony,” he said finally. “Thank you for coming.”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“See you later,” he shrugged, turning away from you to go to the little makeshift stage in the middle of the room. You spotted Natasha there, smiling at him like he was the only one in the room.

Your eyes filled with tears for the second time that night, this time for an entirely different reason. It was time to find Tony and get out of there as fast as you could.

Most of the people were gathering around Bucky so you were able to make a quick exit, keeping your head down almost the whole way until you rushed down the steps to the waiting limo. You stepped over to the driver and asked if Tony was inside the limo, but he shook his head at you.

“Fine. When he finally gets here, tell _Mr. Stark_ that I am leaving without him.” With a sharp glare, you turned on your heels and started walking in the opposite direction.

* * *

Okay, so it turned out you really didn’t think this through. You were cold because you didn’t bring a jacket, and your feet were killing you in those strappy heels you used to love but were now cursing.

You found the nearest dive bar where they didn’t ever card people and made your way inside, silently praying that no one would bother you. The next available bar stool became your home for the rest of the evening, and your drink of choice was flowing freely after you remembered you had a stash of money in your clutch.

Tony had called you about 6 or 7 times already, leaving frantic and pleading voicemails telling you to call him and that he’d come get you. After what he’d done, leaving you to fend for yourself, you figured he could do the same tonight.

You probably got about three drinks in before your phone rang again. This time it wasn’t Tony, it was Bucky.

You hit ignore and kept drinking.

Drinks four and five were gone by the time Bucky tried to call again, and once again, you sent his call to voicemail.

You knew he was leaving voicemails and sending text messages, but you weren’t drunk enough to care.

Drink six is what did you in. You were gone, shitfaced, wasted. This time, you called _him_.

“Hey, Buckaroo!” you called out cheerfully into the phone.

“Y/N, where the hell are you? I saw Tony…leave without you. Are you okay?”

“I’m super. I’ve had s-some beverages.”

“I can tell. Where are you? Natasha and I will come and get you.”

“Ohhhhh Nataaaaasha will come too? Well aren’t I so damn lucky?” you slurred. “Thank god your perfect girlfriend is going to come get me too. Since she can’t- she can’t be too far from you, can she Buckaroni?”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying right now.” His voice was gruff. “There are only two bars in walking distance from the gallery. I’ll come find you, don’t go anywhere.”

“I don’t know where I would go,” you reasoned, shrugging to no one.

When Bucky and Natasha finally arrived in a cab, you were sat between them in the middle. They claimed it was so that they could help you, but you figured it was so you wouldn’t accidentally fall out of the cab.

You turned to look at Natasha then. “You’re pretty,” you blurted. “Are you and Bucky going to get married?”

She laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Y/N, but I think you’re pretty, too.”

“Spoiler alert,” you told her seriously. “I’m not.”

“You both are,” Bucky muttered, looking out the window of the cab.

“Nata-asha,” you hiccupped. “Bucky used to run around his yard in his underpants.”

Her eyes moved to his over your head and she let out a laugh. “Did he now?”

“Yep.”

Bucky nudged you. “You used to try to get me to play Disney games with you, remember? You were the princess and you wanted me to be the prince who saved the day?”

“I guess some things never change,” Natasha remarked.

Your head whirled around to look at her again; her smirk was still in place.

“Nat,” he said quietly. “Don’t start.”

“What? I’m just saying. You were having a perfectly good evening and then we had to leave your big moment to come find her.”

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, looking back at Bucky.

He offered you a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, doll. If the situation was reversed, you’d do the same for me.”

“Always,” you murmured, turning your eyes back to the front windshield as the cab approached your apartment. You were suddenly feeling much more sober.

When the cab stopped, Bucky got out and helped you to your door. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No.” You were already ashamed enough of your behavior, so you forced a smile on your face. “Go and get Natasha home. I’ll be okay.”  

He stared at you for a beat, as if assessing how honest you were in that moment. “If you’re sure?”

“Thank you.” You opened your door and carefully stepped inside. “You’d make a great Disney prince.”

He gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Y/N. If you need me text me.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You reached out and gave him a hug, your face close enough to his that you felt his breath on your cheek. You pulled back slowly, eyes finding his.

With one last lingering look, he pulled away and turned, headed back to the cab, back to Natasha. 

You closed the door behind you and leaned your back against it before sliding down to the floor, bringing your knees to your chest and burying your head in your arms.


	8. Age 21

Despite the fact that you’d been having your share of adult beverages for a few years now, you were now legally allowed to. Your twenty-first birthday a couple of days ago granted you that right. But, your birthday had fallen on a weekday, so you saved the celebrations until that night.

More specifically, your boyfriend had saved them. He said parties were good for any day of the week, but they were the most fun on a Saturday night.

In the month since Bucky’s art show, Tony had become a much better boyfriend. He paid attention to you, spent more time with you, and even took you on a trip upstate with him. You figured he was trying to make up for being such a colossal dick and disappearing that night, but you didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing it up again.

The big birthday party was tonight at his place, and though you found yourself anxious and not looking forward to the attention from strangers, you craved a distraction from your regular routine.

The guest list had been full of people you’d never heard of, but he’d also invited a lot of university-age people, including some of your friends. Bucky had been invited with a plus one, of course, and your former roommates Melissa and Riko had RSVP’d. You’d even seen a reply from Pepper Potts, that author you’d gone to see the night you met Tony who had graduated last semester. She was semi-famous now in the area, having published a book of poems that hit the New York Times Bestseller list.

There was only an hour to go before Tony expected you at his place, so you showered and wandered to your closet to get the dress you’d bought for tonight. It was silver and fit your frame perfectly. You had taken mirror selfies of both that dress and a tighter red one and sent them to Tony the day you went shopping. He’d picked the red one, and for some reason that made you lean even further toward the silver dress.

Rebellion, maybe?

Anyway, you dressed quickly, fixed your hair and makeup, and grabbed a pair of black pumps. Once the ensemble was complete, you gave yourself a nod in the mirror. Not too shabby, if you said so yourself.

You reached for your phone to text Tony like he had asked because he wanted to send a car around for you instead of making you take a cab. That’s when you noticed a message from last night that you must have slept through.

_Hey Doll, I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I would have stopped by but I was in meetings with these curators Nat knows all day and night. I’ll be there tonight._

A smile crossed your face at the thought of him being there for you. _Can’t wait,_ you texted back. When you got no other response from him, you decided to let Tony know you were ready.

You took a deep breath and one last glance in the mirror before grabbing your things to go meet the car out front.

* * *

Tony’s place was incredible, and though you’d been here before, it’d never looked quite this amazing before. There were silver decorations everywhere, no doubt meant to match your dress. Tony had hired a famous musician called DJ Reetz to come personally oversee the music at the party, so there were already a ton of people dancing and having a good time.

When you moved closer to the bar you finally spotted Tony. He was chatting with Pepper; you were taken aback at first until you remember that’s who he had gone to hear the night you’d met him.

With a shrug to no one, you turned and ordered a drink instead.

“Happy Birthday, Miss Y/N,” Tony’s favorite assistant Vis told you with a sincere smile.

“Thank you very much,” you grinned back, accepting the drink he’d mixed for you. You took a long sip and turned, eyes scanning the crowd. You took a few steps in, trying to see if there was anyone you actually _knew_ here at _your_ birthday party, but you didn’t see anyone so far.

“Happy Birthday, Doll,” a familiar voice sounded behind you.

You turned so fast you nearly spilled your drink, a big smile already on your face. “Bucky!” Then your eyes met Natasha’s. “And Natasha! So glad you both could be here!” Was that fake-sincere enough?

If not, they didn’t say a word. Natasha smiled prettily at you. “Happy Birthday, Y/N. Glad to be here.”

She was acting _much_ nicer to you now. Maybe she realized that you and Bucky would be friends no matter what.

Your eyes flickered back to him. He looked really handsome; you knew that had to be a new suit. “You look great,” you said. “Both of you.” If she could try to be nice, then so would you.

“You look amazing.” Bucky gave you that damn lopsided grin that you adored so much, and you felt yourself slipping again.

Not tonight. Tonight was about you, and not him. _YOU_.

“Well there’s lots of food and drinks,” you told them, holding your own drink up. “Help yourselves. I have to mingle, I think.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Natasha agreed, turning to go to the bar. “Come on, Bucky, let’s get some drinks.”

“Okay,” he agreed, turning to follow her before stopping. He waited until she was out of earshot before looking back at you. “Can I talk to you sometime tonight, alone?”

“Yeah, of course, Bucky. Everything okay?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment. “Just let me know when you have a moment.” He turned and walked to the bar where Natasha was waiting for him.

Your mind was racing; he sounded so _serious_. What could he possibly want to talk about?”

Then it hit you. Oh god. Oh no. Was he going to ask Natasha to _marry_ him? Your hands got clammy and you felt the panic hit you. “Dammit,” you cursed under your breath, eyes wide. What were you gonna do? You downed the rest of your drink in a few gulps and set the empty glass on the tray of a waiter that was walking past before walking out toward the front door. You needed air desperately.

“Y/N, there you are!” Tony shouted. “Everyone, the birthday girl is here!”

Cheers and applause filled the room as Tony made his way over to you, squeezing you to him tightly. He gestured at DJ Reetz for a microphone and she passed one over to someone who brought it to him.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming to the twenty-first birthday party of this beautiful woman standing beside me, my girlfriend Y/N.” Again, people applauded politely.

Much to your horror, Tony started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of his lungs. You could tell he was drunk already, because he wasn’t looking at you but instead out into the crowd. Had he looked at you he would have seen the discomfort on your face.

Just so you wouldn’t seem rude or ungrateful you smiled and said thank you into the microphone. When he finally handed it back to the DJ, you glared at him. “You’re just now realizing I’m here? Took you long enough.”

“I was mingling,” he said with a light shrug. “New contacts mean new potential clients. You know that.”

“So that’s why there are so few people here that actually care about me, you made this a business party?” You felt your heart sink.

“Well my dear, to be honest, once we got down your friends list, there was a lot of space left in the penthouse. I wanted a packed house so you’d have a nice time.”

Oh. Right. You didn’t _have_ that many people in your life that cared about you. You felt bad now. “You’re right,” you sighed out, leaning into the embrace he offered you. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

Tony kissed your temple. “No worries, dear. Besides, your roommates are over there dancing,” he pointed left, “and your pal Bucky and his girlfriend are standing at the bar, so you do have people here.” He gave you a grin. “We good?”

“Yeah. Go mingle.”

He gave you another kiss on the lips this time before pulling away. “I’ll be back for cake. Go have fun!”

“Go have fun,” you mocked, wandering back up to the bar but away from the rest of the crowd.

Vis gave you a sympathetic look as he came over to you. “Not much for Mr. Stark’s parties, are you, Y/N?”

‘No, Vis, it turns out I am not,” you replied, giving him a wry smile. “How often does he throw these things?”

“Weekly, I’d say, Miss Y/N.”

“Great,” you muttered. Your eyes wandered the crowd before falling on Bucky and Natasha again. He was leaning against the bar, his face turned away from you and toward Nat.

You felt like you were going to throw up again when you remembered that he had wanted to tell you something later.

Well, you were just going to have to avoid him all night.

* * *

The party continued on with little or nothing exciting happening. You danced with some of Tony’s business friends, including a man Tony affectionately called Rhodey. That was probably the highlight so far. You’d not seen Tony in a while, though, and you didn’t know whether to be suspicious or happy about it.

After thanking Rhodey for the dance, you wandered over to one of the big windows and stared out at the night sky. The people inside reflected off the glass, and your eyes caught movement behind you in the form of one James Buchanan Barnes.

“Y/N.” Bucky moved closer so that you had no choice but to look at him. “You’re avoiding me, Doll.”

“I’m not,” you protested weakly. “I’m having fun at my own birthday party.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Uh-huh. Can we find that time to talk now?”

Your heart started racing again, and you were fully prepared to find an excuse not to, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.

Might as well get it over with.

“Fine,” you agreed lightly, turning and motioning for him to follow you.

The two of you made your way down the hall to Tony’s study, where you shut and locked the door behind you. “He never comes in here anymore, anyways,” you told Bucky, leaning against the door. “So no one will bother us.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded more to himself than you, and started pacing back and forth. “Y/N, I-” He paused, wringing his hands nervously.

“Just spit it out, Bucky, okay? Get it over with!”

He glanced up at the frustration in your voice. “Tony is cheating on you.”

You weren’t sure you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry?”

Bucky moved to stand in front of you, staring you right in the eye as he repeated himself. “Tony is cheating on you, Doll. I saw him that night at the gallery, when I went looking for you. I saw a blonde woman get into the limo with him and before the door closed, I saw him kissing her. They looked very… _familiar_ with each other.”

“Are you sure that’s what you saw?” Your brow furrowed as you stared at him, silently pleading with him to be honest. “You’re sure?”

“I’m absolutely sure.” He took a few steps closer to you. “I know what I saw.”

You were livid but you definitely believed him, picturing Tony with Pepper just a little bit ago. It had to be her. “You’re telling me this now, weeks later, at my _birthday party?_ How could you keep this from me, Bucky? You’re one of my _best friends_. I would _never_ keep it from you if Natasha was cheating on you.”

Bucky blinked at you, disbelief etched on his face. “She couldn’t possibly cheat on me,” he countered. “And I wanted to tell you, but you were so drunk and you didn’t deserve to hear it that same night. I’m so sorry, you have to believe me, I never meant for you to get hurt over this. It’s Tony you should be mad at!” He reached a hand out to your shoulder.

“I don’t _care_ enough about Tony to be mad at _him_!” you shouted, shoving Bucky backwards a little. “I _trusted you,_ Bucky. Since the day I met you, I’ve trusted you to watch my back.” You turned, eyes watering, chest painfully tight. “This is so humiliating and hurtful! I need you to take your girlfriend and leave.”

“She’s n-“

“Get out!” Your voice wavered, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him again. “Please, just go.”

You heard the door unlock and open behind you, but he stopped in the doorway. His voice was painfully quiet. “I’m sorry if I ruined your birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ll…I’ll leave you alone for as long as you need. If you need me, you know where I am.”

You didn’t reply. When he finally closed the door behind him, you pulled out your phone and texted Tony.

_We need to talk._


	9. Age 22

As the old saying goes, ‘All good things must come to an end.’

This was the reality you faced as your final semester of university wrapped up. You already had two job interviews lined up at publishing firms for post-graduation. The jobs, both entry-level, weren’t exactly what you had in mind when you’d dreamed of a writing career, but it would get you money and give you time to plan your next move. Student loans weren’t exactly going to pay themselves, after all.

There was still work left to finish for your classes, though. You were on your way to meet a classmate, Steve, at your favorite fast food place. You and Steve had realized you were both loners, so you’d kind of gravitated toward each other for help when it came to writing and assignments. Lately, however, he was too lovesick to be of any use.

“So much for talking about our writing. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t worry about it, Steve. I get it. You really need to ask Sharon out though. This is making you lose sleep, and you haven’t touched your final assignment in weeks. That’s not good, man.”

“You’re right. I-”

“Well, well,” a woman’s voice drawled behind you. “Look who it is!”

You cringed as you made eye contact with Steve. That was a voice you’d never forget.

Turning around slowly, you came face-to-face with Natasha, and just like always, Bucky was in tow.

“Hi,” you said weakly, refusing to look at him. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, we don’t have to play nice, do we, Y/N?” She glared at you, crossing her arms.

“Nat,” you heard Bucky say in a warning tone.

“No, she needs to hear this, let me-”

“Stop,” he said finally, moving forward. Your eyes flickered to his and he gave you a small forced smile. “Sorry. We’ll leave you two alone.”

“No, we’re just-” You frowned and glanced at Steve, who raised an eyebrow at you before getting up to stand beside your chair. With a sigh, you stood too. “Natasha, Bucky, this is my classmate Steve.” You bit your lip as you tried to gauge their reactions. “We’re here trying to work on our final assignment for one of our classes.” You looked at Steve. “Steve, this is Bucky, he’s my –”

You paused. You’d been about to say friend, but you weren’t sure if you were anymore.

As if sensing your hesitation, Bucky stepped up. “I’m her friend, since we were little kids.” He reached his hand out and shook Steve’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Bucky genuinely looked surprised. “Oh?” His eyes flitted to yours, and you quickly looked to Natasha.

“Steve, this is Natasha. She’s Bucky’s –”

“Friend,” she supplied coolly, reaching her hand out to Steve. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Natasha smirked at what had to be shock on your face. “We’re here to meet my fiancé for lunch.”

“F- Fiancé?” You stuttered, completely confused.

“Yeah, Clint is here somewhere.” She stood on her tiptoes and looked around the room. “There he is, over in the corner. It was nice meeting you, Steve. Nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too.” You could barely reply as you watched her walk over to a handsome blond man in the corner and kiss him. Your eyes looked back to Bucky; he was watching you carefully.

Steve knew what Bucky meant to you, and the way things had gone down at your party. He packed up his stuff and gave you a smile. “I’m not being much help tonight anyway. I think I’ll go find Sharon.”

“Okay,” you said softly, unable to look anywhere except Bucky’s blue eyes.

When you were alone, he smiled a little more brightly. “Why don’t you get your things and we can go for a walk?”

“Okay,” you said again, wishing you could find any words besides that one. You were a writer, for goodness sake!

With your backpack firmly on your shoulder, you followed Bucky out onto the street, not bothering to look back at Natasha. The two of you fell into step beside each other, and you bit your cheek to stop from asking a hundred questions.

“Go ahead,” Bucky laughed. “I know you want to say it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she wasn’t your girlfriend?” Your voice was one notch less crazy than you were expecting, though still exasperated.

“I tried, Doll, so many times.”

“I feel so stupid, I called her that to her face!”

“Nat thought it was funny, actually.”

Ah, now the heat rose in your cheeks. “She was pretty convincing.”

“That’s just her personality, to be honest.” A small smile crossed his face and you stared at the little crinkles that now adorned the corners of his eyes. He was still so damn handsome.

“In fact,” Bucky continued, his eyes still looking down as you both walked, “I’m pretty sure she was using me at first to get the attention of curators for future job references. Over the last couple years though she’s become a good friend. Someone I could vent to and hang out with.”

The guilt that seeped into your body went bone deep. “Bucky, I’m sorry for how I acted. I know it took a lot for you to tell me about Tony.”

“We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to, Doll. It’s okay.”

“No,” you stopped walking to really look at him. “No it’s not okay. You were just watching out for me, and I was a total bitch to you. _Please_ accept my apology.”

“All right, all right,” he said, eyes twinkling. It was a total difference from the way he was in the restaurant. “I accept, but only if you’ll accept mine. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“I accept. Can we please be friends again?”

“Of course.”

It was like the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders. You didn’t realize until that moment just how much his absence had hurt you. The two of you continued walking, and a thought hit you. “You know, I snuck into some of your art shows this year.”

“You know, you aren’t very good at sneaking. I saw you at two of them.”

You let out a big laugh. “I thought I was being so covert.”

“Thank you for supporting me even when you were mad at me.” Bucky gave you a lopsided smile.

You’d missed that, too. “Yeah well, I have a lot to learn when it comes to art.”

“And I have a lot to learn when it comes to writing. I went to that reading you gave, where you read that short piece, what was it called? Puzzles?”

You gaped at him in shock. “You were there? It was called ‘Puzzle Pieces.’ I read it for my seminar.”

“I really liked it.”

You shook your head. “I can’t believe you were there.”

“You up for some caffeine?” Bucky stopped and nodded his head toward the coffee shop in front of you.

“You _do_ remember me,” you joked, stepping inside as he held the door open for you.

* * *

“Yes Mom, I have my cap and gown ready to go.” You stared at the items currently crumpled on your bed. “At least, I’ll have them ready for this afternoon.”

“Y/N, don’t make me leave at 6AM to come iron your things. I won’t have you looking like a slob for your graduation day.”

“I won’t look like a slob, Mom,” you practically whined. “Why don’t you call Bucky and remind him? He’s the one that needs help.”

“I still think it’s so funny that you two ended up graduating from university together. And to think, if he hadn’t changed majors and schools-“

“He wouldn’t have fallen behind, yeah yeah, I know.” You let out a sigh. “I haven’t heard from him. I didn’t tell him you got him a graduation gift.”

“We,” she corrected. “It was your idea. I’d have never thought to get him an engraved frame for his first painting.”

“I hope he likes it. Anyways, Mom, I have to go. What time are you actually arriving?”

“It should only take me an hour to get there, so maybe around 11? See you soon, university graduate! And don’t worry about Bucky. I ironed his gown last night for him.”

“You what?!” Before you could get any more from her, your mom hung up. This was very suspicious. You were going to have to find out what exactly was going on.

But first, you had to iron your stupid graduation gown.

* * *

Graduation at a large university was kind of like taking a bow as part of the ensemble in a play. You weren’t really anyone’s focus except the people who were there specifically for you, though that suited you perfectly.

Your mom found you after and gave you a giant hug. You let her have this moment because she’d basically raised you on her own, and she deserved to feel pride and accomplishment, too. She even had a total stranger take a picture of you two with your cap still on so she could frame it.

“Now let’s find Bucky and get a picture with him.” Your mom glanced around. “Did you bring your phone to text him?”

“Yeah, hang on.” You had to maneuver your gown a bit to reach into the pocket of your dress underneath, sending up a silent thank you to whomever started the trend. You typed out a quick _Where are you_?

“Behind you, Doll.”

You jumped about a foot, with Bucky cackling as he walked up beside you. “Not funny,” you informed him, pretending to be mad.

“Oh come on, even your mom laughed!” He grinned at her before gathering her in a big hug.

“There’s my favorite handsome man,” she gushed. “My two graduates. I can hardly handle it!”

Bucky’s smile was blinding. Since he had no family left, the two of you were his family. After some more pictures that included Bucky this time, and a nice dinner that he insisted on paying for, your mom left to go back home. You’d be moving back home with her in a month or so, much to your dismay.

Bucky’s apartment was closer to the venue than yours so you followed him back for some celebratory beers.

He raised his mug. “Here’s to us,” he said, his eyes bright. “University graduates!”

“To us!” Your voice echoed softly, before you took a big gulp of beer.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

“Oh, no! My mom and I got you something too, but she drove away with it!” You frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s not like I don’t know where she lives.” Bucky got up and left the room for a second, then came back with something that was very familiar to you.

“Oh god, you went and got the box from my closet!” A loud laugh left you as you reached for it. “I was wondering why my mom was able to iron your graduation gown for you.”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “She told you, then?”

“Only the ironing part.” You took the box over to the couch. Bucky flopped down next to you as you started to open it.

The first thing you saw inside was the finished copy of the children’s book you’d written when you were seventeen. Your eyes filled with tears at the sight. “Bucky,” you whispered, lifting it carefully. “This is beautiful…I can’t believe it.”

“I figured since you gave it to me on my graduation day, I’d pass it back to you today.”

With gentle hands, you touched the front cover and opened it. Your name was inside with a new line below it. “Illustrated by James Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled quietly beside you each time you commented on a new page. “I kept the original,” he added. “It was a gift for me, after all. This is a professional copy I had made.”

“It’s amazing. It’s everything I had hoped for,” you told him. You were completely blown away by the finished product. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. There’s something else in there, too.” He took the book from your hands and set it on the coffee table before looking back to you, his eyes intense.

Your hand started shaking a little as you reached back in and pulled out an envelope with your name on it. You ripped one end carefully and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded neatly. “This is the letter?”

“It is.”

_The_ letter. The one he had apologized in over the way you had parted in high school.

> _Dear Y/N,_
> 
> _I know this is late, but better late than never, right?_
> 
> _I don’t think I’ve ever messed up this badly in my entire life._
> 
> _I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for being inconsiderate. I’m sorry for not treating you as well as you’ve treated me. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better person. I’m sorry I let you down._
> 
> _But most of all, I’m sorry that I ever let you get away._
> 
> _It’s taken me all this time, Doll, but I see now what’s been in front of me since the third grade, and how stupid I was to let you get away. I even painted a portrait of you for my first exhibit. I’m so in love with you._
> 
> _If you’d let me, I’d like to make it up to you. I never want to see you look at me that way ever again. I want to be someone you count on, someone you’re proud of. I want you to love me back._
> 
> _If I don’t hear back from you I’m going to assume that you don’t feel the same way and I’ll try to move on. But please, Y/N, if there’s even a small chance left, please let me take it._
> 
> _Yours, always,_
> 
> _Bucky_

By the time you got to the end of the letter, you were crying. He’d written this five years ago. _Five years_ that the two of you wasted just because you didn’t open the stupid box.

“Doll, I didn’t mean to upset you…”

You set the letter on top of the book and moved the box out of your way before you turned to him, knowing what you had to do. Your hands touched his shoulders carefully, before sliding to the nape of his neck.

“I’m not wasting any more time,” you told him, eyes searching his, your breath shallow. “Here’s your chance.”

It took Bucky two seconds before realization washed over his features.

It only took another second, maybe less, for him to press his lips to yours for the first time.

His lips were soft and warm, and everything except the incredible pressure of his mouth caressing yours faded away. Bucky’s hands cupped your face and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, shifting closer to you.

He was _intoxicating._ His touch sent chills down your spine, his scent made you dizzy, but you couldn’t get enough.

When he pulled back, his hands still held your jawline tenderly, and you realized how badly you’d been longing for this. You told him so.

“Me too,” he said, letting out a ragged breath that brushed over your skin. He rested his forehead against yours.

“Kiss me again,” you whispered, your heart thumping so hard he could probably hear it.

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice.


	10. Age 24

“Hey, Doll, can you hand me that?”

You turned to see what exactly your boyfriend was pointing to beside you and held up a screwdriver. “This?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get this stupid fixture to stay and it keeps tilting.” Bucky stood on a small ladder, his hand outstretched to you. When you handed him the screwdriver, he winked at you. “Almost done.”

“We could get an electrician to work on it, Buck.” Your hands went to your hips as you stood below the light fixture watching him work.

“Might not wanna stand there, sweetheart,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t want this to fall on you.”

“Good point,” you agreed, backing up.

“Besides, I’ve put these in before.” His face was scrunched in concentration, and he looked so sexy in that moment. He wore a tight grey tank top that showed off his muscles, and his long hair was pulled back. It was doing things to you.

But, you’d already _distracted_ him twice yesterday and once this morning, so you figured you should try to keep it together. You merely hummed at him instead and went back to what you were doing, pulling the curtain rod through your brand new curtains to hang up in what would become your living room.  

After you and Bucky finally got your acts together to become a couple, everything moved much faster than you expected simply due to the circumstances you found yourselves in. You were about to be apartment-less, since you’d given up your lease in favor of moving home to save money.

Bucky, however, had more money than he knew what to do with, having inherited his parents’ fortune, as well as the money from selling the house that was next-door to your mother. It was a sad day to see it go, but you simply couldn’t afford two places, and Bucky didn’t want to make new memories with you there. It reminded him too much of his parents.

So you’d agreed to move into his apartment with him at first instead of moving home, and now, two years later, you were fixing up your first home together. It was small, but enough for you both to live comfortably, plus it had a writing study for you and a room for him to paint in. It also happened to be halfway between the publishing house you worked for and the gallery he had chosen to exclusively display his artwork.

You jumped a little when you felt his arms slide around your waist. You’d been so lost in thought you didn’t even hear him approach.

Bucky rested his chin on your shoulder. “I think this is coming along well, don’t you?”

“I do,” you agreed. “Have you had time to do any painting, though?”

“A little.” He moved to nuzzle your neck, his breath warm on your skin. “There are other things I’d rather be doing, though.”

“Oh?” you asked, pretending to be oblivious. “Like hang these curtains for me?”

“Not what I had in mind, Doll.” His voice was husky and his lips pressed slow, gentle kisses from your neck to behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You were about to give in for the second time that day when a loud crash sounded behind you.

Both of you whirled around to see the light fixture you’d picked out mangled in a heap on the ground.

Bucky let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking at you. “Maybe it’s time we hire an electrician.”

You couldn’t stop the smirk that appeared on your face. “We can definitely do that, but what was that last thing you were talking about?”

He grinned and pulled you by the hips until there was no space between the two of you. “I was saying, I had something in mind that would be more fun than-“

This time it was your phone that rang.

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Bucky groaned, pulling away from you and covering his face with his hands.

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” you laughed, moving to grab your phone. As you suspected it was your mother calling. “Hi Mom!”

“Hi sweetie! How’s the new house coming?”

“As well as can be expected. How are you?”

“Fine, fine. Listen, there’s a package that arrived here but it’s got Bucky’s name on it. Can you ask him if he wants me to ship it to your new address?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you open it?”

“No, I-“

“Shit,” Bucky cursed as he grabbed the phone away from you. “Hey there. Sorry I totally forgot about that. No, we were going to come visit you anyways, I can get it then. Tomorrow works for us, we’re both off. Okay. Thank you, I love you, too. Sure, I’ll tell her. See you then!” He hit end on the call and handed the phone back to you.

“Since when were we planning to visit this weekend?” you asked, crossing your arms. Something was up and you didn’t want to be left out again. You knew how your mom like to conspire with Bucky against you.

“Since now. You don’t mind, right? It’ll be nice to get away. We can have the contractor come in tomorrow while we’re gone.”

Damn. He got you there.

He gave you a pleading look. “Come on. We only have to stay one night. I promise it’ll be great.” His grin returned. “And maybe I can finally find out what it’s like to make out with you in your bedroom.”

“Perv,” you joked, pulling him to you for a kiss.

* * *

The drive to your mom’s house the next day was short and sweet. Bucky held your hand over the console of the car, even though you told him repeatedly that he needed to use both hands to drive. You finally gave in when he promised to stop singing Guns N’ Roses songs out loud if you let him hold your hand.

When he pulled into the driveway, you saw him glance at his old house. A middle-aged couple with two kids had moved in already, and you could see just how different it seemed now.

“Looks good,” he commented lightly, his mouth quirking up a little. Bucky shut the car door and moved around to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both made your way up to the front door where your mom was waiting to greet you.

She had an amazing lunch waiting for you, and the three of you sat around the table catching up. Bucky’s arm was draped lazily across the back of your chair the whole time. It was really strange having him here for the first time as your boyfriend, but you’d just been so busy with your new job, and he was so busy with his exhibits, that it had just been easier for her to come to your apartment to visit.

“So Bucky,” she began as she stood to get the dishes.

You stopped her. “I got ‘em, Mom. Go ahead and catch up with Buck.”

She smiled at you gratefully as Bucky led her into the living room to talk. You could hear bits and pieces with soft voices but nothing loud enough to know what was going on. Whatever they had planned, you didn’t really want to ruin it. You hummed to yourself as you cleared the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

When you were finished, you made your way into the living room and leaned against the door frame.

Your mom looked up at you from the couch and gave you a bright smile, even bigger than the one she’d given when you first arrived. Yeah, something was definitely up.

“Y/N, I think maybe you and Bucky should go look outside at the landscaping and tell me if you think it needs work. You know I have a terrible eye for it, and he’s an artist, so it’ll help I think.”

“Sure, Mom, painting and landscaping go hand-in-hand, why not?” You shrugged as Bucky stood up.

“I’d be happy to help,” he said with a firm nod as he reached for you. “Come on, Doll. Let’s go see what we can figure out.”

“This is really weird,” you muttered as he grabbed your hand and practically dragged you out the door.

When you got to the edge of the driveway you stopped and turned but were dragged even further away. “Uh, Bucky, the grass and landscaping aren’t at the sidewalk,” you reminded him with a laugh. “Where are we really going?”

He didn’t say anything until you were standing on the sidewalk, exactly in-between the two houses. “Here,” he said, grinning at you. His eyes were a little wild looking, and he was doing that weird shifting thing he does with his feet when he’s nervous.  

“You brought me down here for sentimental reasons, didn’t you?” You tilted your head and smiled at him. This had been where you used to catch the school bus. “Oh, Bucky. It’s like we’re kids again.”

“Exactly, except this time I’m not totally irritated with you.”

“And this time, I don’t have to ask if you’d be my friend,” you teased.

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head. “No, you definitely don’t. In fact…”

Your heart practically stopped as you watched Bucky get down on one knee.

“I couldn’t think of a better place to ask you then right here, Y/N, where I first met you. The place where I first promised to always have your back.” You could see his eyes were glassy as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. He opened it and displayed its contents to you.

Nestled inside the box was a beautiful diamond on a platinum band.

Bucky grabbed your left hand then, and tears instantly sprang to your eyes and spilled over. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

He smiled tearfully up at you. “I would be forever grateful, I’d be the happiest man alive if you’d do me the honor of saying yes to my next question. Will you marry me?”

“YES, of course I will,” you practically shrieked, somewhere between laughing and sobbing as he slid the ring on your finger.

You both were crying when he stood back up and kissed you tenderly.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispered against your lips.

“I can’t wait to marry _you_ ,” you replied, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. “I can’t believe you and my mom conspired again! Asking me to marry you where I first fell head over heels for you…” Your voice trailed off, too emotional to continue.

Bucky just laughed, nuzzling the side of your head. “Seventeen years later and I’ve still got it.”


	11. Age 30

The first thing you noticed when your eyes opened was that the sun was streaming through your bedroom window, so it had to be later than you’d set on your alarm. You lifted your head and reached for your phone, realizing that the alarm had been deliberately shut off before it had the chance to wake you.

The smell of waffles and syrup was in the air, though, and you’d already taken today off from work, so you weren’t about to yell at your husband for it. Besides, you still had plenty of time to get dressed and not miss any of this morning’s excitement.

Your belly was big now; being 8 months pregnant will do that to a woman. You had to sort of roll on your side and swing your legs a bit to even get out of bed, but your pregnancy had been so smooth thus far that you knew you had no right to complain even a little.

Once you were dressed and your teeth were brushed, you padded barefoot into the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway to take in the scene in front of you.

Bucky was standing at the kitchen island with the waffle maker, wearing a silly apron and stacking way too many waffles per person on each plate.

Your 5-year-old daughter Zoey was sat on a stool on the other side of the counter grinning and laughing happily at the mess her father was making.

With a hand on your belly, you made your way over to Bucky.

As soon as he saw you, his whole face lit up. “Good morning, Doll. Did you sleep well?” He leaned over and gave you a chaste kiss.

“I did, since someone let me have a few extra minutes in bed.” You smiled at him as he placed his hands on your belly, a morning ritual he’d started when you were pregnant with Zoey that was his way of saying hello to the baby.

You moved back around the island to throw your arms around your daughter. “Good morning, sweetie, are you ready for your first day of school?”

“Yep,” she declared. “I’m ready.”

“Did Daddy give you a lunch box?”

“He did,” Bucky supplied with knowing smile. “And her backpack is ready to go, along with a note with our numbers for her teacher just in case. Don’t be such a worry wart.”

“I know, it’s just, our baby starts school today.” You reached up and combed your fingers through her hair lovingly.

“I am _not_ a baby!” Zoey frowned at you and pointed to your belly. “ _That_ is a baby.”

“Now you’ve done it.” Bucky let out a low chuckle, his blue eyes twinkling as he pushed a plate of waffles your way. “Eat up. Husband’s orders.”

You apologized profusely to your daughter before digging into the delicious breakfast in front of you. Your morning entertainment was listening to Bucky go over everything with Zoey again, like what to do when she gets to school, and to be sure she becomes friends with someone who’s really nice.

When the time came for Zoey to wait for the bus outside, she insisted that she walk down the driveway to the sidewalk by herself. “I’m _not_ a _baby_!” she insisted for the second time that morning.

You stood wrapped in Bucky’s arms on the porch as you both watched your baby girl trudge down the driveway, clutching her lunchbox for dear life. You could tell she was scared, but she was putting on a brave face. That’s more than could be said for you. Tears were threatening to fall from your eyes, and you thought you had it under control until Bucky had to go and open his big mouth.  

His lips brushed your ear softly. “She’ll be fine, Doll, don’t worry. She’s got this.”

You were already emotional from being pregnant, but that little pep talk is what pushed you over the edge, and you covered your mouth to stop the small sob that you nearly let out.

“Shhh…” he whispered, brushing your hair back gently. “Look how well she’s doing. Don’t get worked up, it’s not good for you.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice watery. “But she’s our _baby_. Oh god, is this how my mom felt when I went to school?”

“Maybe, until she realized you had me.”

You turned your head to make a face at him, and he grinned back at you for a moment before nodding toward Zoey. When your eyes flickered back to your daughter, you saw that she had been joined by another child.

“What’s your name?” you heard Zoey ask the little boy.

“Jacob, but my friends call me Jake,” he replied, his voice a little timid. “What’s yours?”

“Zoey. I’m in kindergarten.”

“Me too. I heard it’s scary.”

“Don’t be scared,” Zoey told him, standing a little taller. “I’ll look out for you.”


End file.
